Page 25

THE ONLY WAY I KNEW HOW

“You okay?” Kieran asked, eyeing me closely.

Nodding, I picked up the glass.

“You sure about that?”

I sent him a look of warning. “Don’t you have something to do? Or someone?”

Kieran huffed out a low laugh. “I’m going to see if the others have arrived.” He stepped forward. “You staying here?”

“For a little while.” I wasn’t in the mood to return to the dorm, where I would lay in bed, damn near praying to sleeping gods that I could find rest.

“Expecting company tonight?” he asked as he moved to the door.

“No.” My gaze returned to the whiskey. Tension crept into the muscles of my neck. “Not tonight.”

“The Red Pearl is a strange place to spend one’s evening alone.”

“Is it? I imagine you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be here alone.”

“As if you do?” he countered.

A tight smile twisted my lips, but I stopped as he reached the door. “Real quick—how is Setti?” I asked.

Kieran smiled. “Your horse is fine. Though I don’t think he’s all that pleased with the offerings of hay.”

I smiled at that. That horse was a picky bastard at times. I was surprised he hadn’t nipped at Kieran while he kept him stabled.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Goodbye, Kieran.”

The wolven let out a soft, knowing laugh as he slipped quietly from the room. Anyone else would’ve thought twice about that laugh, but I didn’t with Kieran.

And he was right.

The Red Pearl was a strange place to spend your time alone. These rooms were used for the kinds of meetings you didn’t want others to know about. Sometimes, words were exchanged. Other times, a different type of communication happened, one with far less clothing that didn’t usually end with discussions of the likelihood of someone’s death. Then again, those types of meetings had become few and far between, hadn’t they?

I finished off the whiskey, welcoming the burn as I tipped my head back against the settee. A heavy restlessness settled into my bones. I stared at the dark ceiling, wondering exactly when a few hours of mindless pleasure stopped having the desired effect of shutting down my mind.

Had it ever really worked, though? For longer than a handful of seconds? I could occupy my hands and tongue and every other part of my body with soft curves and warm, hidden places, but my mind would always end up exactly where I sought to escape.

That damn cage with the unending hunger.

The feeling of being dead yet still breathing. As if everything that made life about more than just existing was still in that cage.

Even now, I could feel the cold, bruising hands and hear the taunting laughter as the Ascended slowly sliced away a part of who I was. And Malik? He was likely experiencing everything I had and more, and it was all my fault.

I was the only reason the Blood Crown held him captive. The only reason Atlantia had gone long past the time to name a new King. If I hadn’t thought I could end the threat to the west on my own, he would be free. Instead, he’d rescued me at the cost of his freedom.

When the Blood Queen held me, it had been for five decades. They’d had him twice that long, and I knew exactly what they were doing to him.

To my brother.

How could he even still be alive?

I stopped myself. Malik had to survive. He would. Because he was strong. I knew no one stronger, and I was so close to freeing him. I just needed—

The sound of footsteps stopping outside the door snapped my head up and my eyes open. The handle on the unlocked door started to turn.

I moved fast, placing the glass on the small table beside the settee and retreating to the shadows clinging to the wall. I curled my fingers around the hilt of one of the short swords I’d left near the door. None of my men would dare to enter the room without knocking. Not even Kieran.

Apparently, someone had a desire to die tonight.

The door cracked open just enough for a body to slip through. Immediately, curiosity washed away the tension creeping into my muscles as I watched the slight, hooded figure close the door. The cloak was familiar. I inhaled deeply as the intruder backed up, walking right past me. The cloak belonged to a maid I knew, but she—and it was definitely a she—didn’t smell like Britta. Everyone had a unique scent, something Atlantians and the wolven were sensitive to. Britta’s reminded me of rose and lavender, but the smell that teased me now was something else.

But who would be in her cloak and in this room? Annoyance flared as I watched her look around, but quick on the emotion’s heels was a looming restlessness. Britta or someone else, the unexpected intrusion at least offered entertainment. No matter how fleeting, it was still a reprieve from all the damn thoughts in my head.